


Various Titles

by Quende Lasse (Ladybluelove)



Category: The Silmarillion - JRR Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Horror, Incest, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slash, gen - Freeform, written March 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybluelove/pseuds/Quende%20Lasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles and ficlets written for the Back to Middle-Earth in March 2010 challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Various Titles

AN: Best read in this order. :)  
  
  
Title: The Allure of the Bait  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: Maitimo/Findekano  
Rating: R  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Double Drabble (200)  
Warning: none  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." -- Oscar Wilde  
  
  
  
I lay languorously upon the divan lost in thoughts of sinful pleasure watching my cousin through the crowns of my eyes, they almost kiss my cheeks at my pretense of remaining incognito spying as the sunlight makes love to him, and wishing it were me. My silk clothing caresses my body in all the right places, leaving a tingling warmth, making my thoughts linger on how it would feel if it were his touches on me rather than my raiment. There is a hum that moves along my body rippling just under my flesh giving me goosebumps, delicious and new. It's a feeling that I have never experienced with ellith, and I wonder at it closing my eyes and savoring the exquisite sensations. I start when hands touch my face, and I open my eyes to look up into the desire that darkens my cousin's eyes, and I gasp as he whispers my name, "Maitimo." The hum turns into a crescendo, rushing through me and coalescing in my groin, his breath feeding my desire, and sighing softly upon his lips, "Findekáno," I come. My cheeks are reddening as I am caught and I yield taking his offered lips upon mine.  
  
  
  
  
Title: Crossing the Line  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: Maitimo/Findekano - Macalaure  
Rating: PG  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Double Drabble (200)  
Warning: Incest  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Write a story surrounding the idea of music and music-making as something that does not calm and soothe but, rather, energizes or antagonizes.  
  
  
  
My brother is being such a pain in the ass all day today. I do not know what is wrong with him; he has been playing his harp making such discordant notes. Their sounds molesting my sensibilities, yet when I pause to listen, the notes turn loving and passionately stirs my fea. He looks at me and his eyes hold an unnatural longing in them that makes me look away quickly. My face burns to the tips of my ears as I feel a stirring within me, and I wonder, if his look does that to me, then what would his touch do? It is as though he is undressing me with his eyes and caressing my body with a lover's want and not a brother's love. The offensive note hits that Eru awful twang again, and this time my eyes widen with the realization that it happens only when Findekano touches me with a lover's familiarity, my lover. "Let us leave this place, Maitimo," and I just now see his possessive smirk as he looks upon my brother. There is a war raging between the two, and it seems that I am to be the spoils of their war.  
  
  
  
Title: The Slippery Slope  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: None, Maitimo, Feanor.  
Rating: PG  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Double Drabble (200)  
Warning: none  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Write a story, poem, or create an artwork from the point of view of a character who is drunk or otherwise under the influence.  
  
  
  
Shamefaced at having taken the potent wine from atar's best stock; I somehow can't bring myself to care as I stumble into the nearby woods. I feel miserable and heart trampled, the bottle all but done. I find no solace speaking to a toad who is bellyaching because I took his place beneath a tree. "They both love me, and I love them both, though I have not confessed this to my brother. How can I?" I hiccup, "It must be wrong, for if it where not, would I not see this love in others?" I feel my eyes close making the tears that hang on the precipice fall, but before I crumble over, strong arms encircle me protectively. "What is wrong, Nelyo?" Atar has found me. "My brother loves me," I slur, on the brink of passing out, "...like Findekano does...." Scandalized, atar picked up the bottle and drained the remains of the heady brew. "Aye, Nelyo," I hear his sigh in my intoxicated dream. "You are truly dazzling, your fea is bright, your heart glorious, and outward your beauty is without comparison. Your mind, though," and I sense a smile, "is now inebriated, therefore, later we shall converse."  
  
  
  
  
Title: Slip Sliding Away  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: Findekano/Maitimo/Macalaure  
Rating: NC17  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Ficlet (600)  
Warning: Angst, Erotica, Incest, Romance  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Sigmund Freud put forth the theory that our psyche is controlled by the Id, the Ego, and the Super-ego and that our minds are constantly in flux between these three powers. What is your character's greatest goals? What great good do they long to do? How do they deal with their current reality? And what primal urges and forces may be causing temptations for your character? Show a conflict between two or more of these drives and desires.

The **Psyche** :

" **id** "/ **Macalaurë** : The uncoordinated instinctual trends. (" **[pleasure principle](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleasure_principle_%28psychology%29)** ")

" **ego** "/ **Findekano** : The organised realistic part of the psyche. (" **[reality principle](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality_principle)** ")

" **super-ego** "/ **Maitimo** : The critical and moralising function. ("the **[conscience](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conscience)** ")

  
  
As Macalaurë walks towards me I feel a shiver run down my spine, this that we are about to do seems so wrong on so many levels, yet we both want this. As he walks he sheds his clothing and arrives before me with just his leggings to cover his prominent bulge and his long black hair arrayed over his shoulders, offering me a peek at his taut red nipples. I reach to touch them with my hands, feeling every strand of his long hair, and it's so heady to feel the strands rub his nipples between my thumbs. I'm lowering my face down to his and kissing him intimately but just on the corner of his lips - his victorious smirk - for he has won me and now will toy with me before allowing me my claim. Yet allow me he shall, for I will feed on this perverted temptation all of my life, both the sweetness that is my brother and the agony of what we will do. I slow all of my movements as I grind my hips to his, eliciting a wanton moan from his juicy wet lips, even as our bulges meet for the first time.  
  
Findekano watches us from where he sits at the windowsill, and his beautiful blue eyes become a storm, a tempest brewing, an ocean of Osse's fury wanting to take back what is his. However, I can tell that he will allow me my sin, for his bulge is as prominent as my brother's and my own. Being ever the practical one, he saunters over to us gracefully and steals my lips away from my brother's, even as he presses onto my brother's back to reach me. Hungrily I delve into his mouth with my tongue. The taste of Findekano is imprinted upon me, literally, in my genetic make-up. He taste like my brother, my Kano, my lover. Sighing, we both allow Kano to reclaim me since Findekano is now stripping us of our final barriers, and my mind plunges into a potent high as I feel my brother's hard flesh hot upon my own. Yet I hold back that bit of me that is crying in my head telling me how wrong this is. "Let go, Nelyo, and just feel our love. Don't think." Findekano whispers in my ear even as he's tracing it to its point with his tongue.  
  
And I let go, spiraling down, slipping away so fast that I lose myself to the madness of what we're doing. I'm the oldest, the leader, the example giver, yet I cannot do anything to save us. We're doomed, a dark omen hangs before us, but I yield to the temptations of my lovers. Entangled, we're on my bed, it's a bed fit for a prince, fit for the _one_ of my generation raised to be a High King. I'll not wear that crown, for I am but third. I shiver, but it's a luscious shiver as I'm entered by my love and I enter my lover, my brother. He's such a wild vocal lover, my Kano, and I can't help but grin joyously, knowing that it is I eliciting that passion from him. Findekano lost most of his pragmatism and now pounds into me hard, so hard, that I wonder if he would take my brother through me. He bites my neck and draws ruby drops away from me, and I know that he's marking me as his own. We come together in so many ways, yet my mind darkens anew and I know that we are lost, damned.  
  


  
Title: Silmarilli, Thy Bane is Mine  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: None, Maitimo  
Rating: PG  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Double Drabble (200)  
Warning: Angst  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Write a story, poem or create an artwork where characters' behavior is dictated by some kind of superstition.  
  
  
  
Life in Aman was grand and a happy time for my family, until the Dark Vala showed up and took from us that which made my family strong. They were the essence of my atar, the Silmarilli. Before them there was discord and my atar almost fought with his usurper of a half brother, and for my uncle's transgression it was we who were punished and exiled. But the Silmarilli would keep us together and safe. Twas true when my uncle came, a beggar, a supplicant, pleading for my atar's forgiveness. The Silmarilli were always lucky for us, and the family was whole again. But that bubble burst when the great tyrant stole them giving us a mortal blow. Our luck turned for the worst, agony and misery followed us as we left many in the hands of Namo. I was caught, the Silmarilli within my sight though out of reach. Despair had me in its grip warring with my pain. Now I stand on the precipice of my life with only one Silmarilli claimed. It is not enough, it burns me, and I see now that my family is destroyed, my life shattered irreparably, all our luck has vanquished.  
  
  
  
  
Title: And the Butterfly Opened Its Mouth and Screamed  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: None, Maitimo (pov), Feanor  
Rating: PG  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Ficlet (600)  
Warning: Angst  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Create a story, poem, or artwork that responds to the following quote: "If you never flew why would you / Cut the wings off a butterfly?" -- Dave Matthews Band

My troops and I ride the harsh winds. I will have my time with Morgoth and make him pay for what he has done to my atar. My tears have dried up and only my hate remains, and too late I see the trap as we round a bend in the treacherous terrain, colliding into the midst of all manner of beast and demons. They surround us, hacking at my forces mutilating them, teasing the dying as they torture them before my eyes.

Then it is I who is caught, my sword useless as a gauntlet hand squeezes my throat, the other striking my horse dead with one fisted blow. My eyes bulge as I am lifted high, the breath squeezing out of me, and I struggle against that awful hand, too weak in my struggles. I open my mouth screaming as my mind is invaded, but no sound emerges, only blood.  
  
In a dream-state I see my past. I was an elfling of not more than ten years, and my family was picnicking in a meadow, at the time it was just amil, atar, and myself. I was very happy then, giggling as I ran around chasing butterflies. I caught one, and I ran to my atar to show him it. My burnished copper hair was wild then and already below my shoulders, the breeze would catch it and toss it about, even as I moved it back with my hand to get it away from my eyes. My dimples deepened as I held the butterfly with my thumb and index finger, and again, pulled my hair away from my eyes. "Atar, look, a butterfly!"   
  
Atar caught me up in his strong arms, picking me up and holding me safe, and he looked at the butterfly that I held in my small hand. It struggled to get away, its spindly legs waving about uselessly, and to my astonishment my finger and thumb got coated with powder from its wings. "Let it go, Nelyo." My atar had said to me, "It is harmless, and it would be a shame to have any hurt come to such a beautiful fragile being."  
  
I looked at my atar as he spoke, blindly trusting everything he said to me, and I nodded my head solemnly, freeing it. Hurt, it flew lopsided. I was saddened when I looked at my fingers, they were tainted with the butterfly's life essence, and I watched as it settled on a flower and silently died. "What happened to it, atar?"  
  
"It couldn't take the hurt of captivity, Nelyo, even for such a brief time. Its lifespan is too short and it must live its life in but a blink of our lives, perhaps it was its time." Walking away toward amil, atar held me close telling me many things of interest about butterflies, but my thoughts and sight kept going back to the flower turned pyre. If only it would burn.  
  
Now I find that I am much like that butterfly on that day, but not. The winds are razor sharp as they slash at my naked body with stony debris, my cropped hair no longer reaches my eyes, there is no beauty around me only despair, and all I feel is pain, destitute and alone. I am a kin to that butterfly, my life leaving me in a blink, my struggles useless, and here on this rock, this massive pyre without flame, I will die and rot, no sound will be heard from me. I am bereft of tears, 'I have failed you, atar, and I have failed my Oath.'

  
  
Title: Stuck in a Box  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: None, Feanorian Brothers  
Rating: PG  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Drabble (100)  
Warning: none  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge: Create a poem, story, or artwork in which groupthink endangers a group of characters.  
  
  
None of the brothers wanted Maitimo to go out and parley with Morgoth, but neither did they voice their concerns. Sure, they each gave their token version of why it was a bad idea. But Maitimo said he had a plan and none of them wanted to be the one to ruin it by voicing individual reasons not to go or even alter the plans. It was a solidarity. None wanted to step outside the comfort zone. Now they huddled, lost; Maitimo lay broken in their cousins tent having been rescued by one when they as a group could not.

  
  
  
Title: Hunger  
Author: Quende Lasse  
Pairing: Maitimo/Macalaure  
Rating: R  
Beta: Eleni *snugglelove*  
Words: Ficlet (600)  
Warning: Horror, Suspense  
Disclaimer: This world belongs to Tolkien and his estate, I'm just playing here with the lovely elves.

  
AN: Challenge:Create a story, poem, or artwork that responds to the following quote: "The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad." -- Salvador Dali  
  
  
  
He bent down picking up the shards of his dish, "How did you land on the floor you foolish thing?" The body was heavy but he dragged it out of the way, his meal was waiting for him. "First I need to pick up all your pieces." He heard the door rattling but ignored it, whoever it was could get their own meal. He looked at the pieces, furrowing his brow, thinking on how he could connect the shards.  
  
Rattling the door, I finally opened it, making the chair that had held it closed fall to the bloodied floor. My brother, Macalaure, was sitting on the floor eating the elf that I had posted to guard him, the shards from the elf's bones were ringed before him. "What have you done, Kano?" I ask, my whispered words cracking as they made their way to my brother.  
  
"I don't know how to fix my dish. It fell and it broke and now my meal is on the floor." He turned his haunted sight to me, his face was as bloodied as his hands and clothing, "Will you help me, Maitimo?"  
  
His fractured gaze became lucid for a moment and I could see in them the horrors that he had been a part of, that we had been a part of, since leaving Valinor. But just as quickly the madness returned and the shards of his mind found rest once more in the pretense that it had fabricated.  
  
"I will help you, my brother." I helped him up and walked with him back to my rooms, and I closed the door with a swift kick of my foot rather than loosening my grip on him, afraid for him, afraid of him, and afraid for us. I knew in my heart that once we got the Silmarilli back that everything would be right again, maybe even normal. I bathed my brother and dressed him for our final assault, it was just us.  
  
There was no one left, at least none who cared, and life passed us by in what seemed to me a whirlwind, finally, we got back some of what we had lost so much to retrieve, but even so, my sanity was almost nil and my brother's would not return again.  
  
My Silmaril burned me, they burned us. I saw my flesh blister, turning black, and the smell... I coughed from the stench. But a sudden blur caught my attention. Macalaure cast his Silmaril into the ocean and turned to look at me, his madness was now complete as he licked his lips and stalked toward me. I ran, afraid, "Eru!" I screamed as I fled.  
  
My brother tracked me to every hiding place that I stuck myself in. It was my burnt flesh and the fresh scent of my blood that always led him to me. I burned, but I could not abandon my Silmaril, not after everything that I, that we, my family and our followers did to get it back.  
  
"Please, Kano, don't you know me?" My mind was on its last thread but I was not mad... he was. Yet, was there really any difference? He lunged at me, and I moved quickly out of his way, but my foot caught and I fell into the chasm at my back. Falling, I could see him settling down to wait, he was hungry, and I would be well done soon enough.  
  
I laughed as I burned, maniacally, madness still eluding me, but the abyss of nothingness embraced me, and I found peace as I died, no rebirth, no nothing... or so I thought.


End file.
